


Sweet Potatoes Need to Grow

by Autheane



Series: Sweet Hell is made of this [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, Kid Fic, M/M, domestic fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1938894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autheane/pseuds/Autheane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Derek and Stiles' lives aren't hard enough, they decide that adding a kid to the equation is a good idea.<br/>They might want to rethink it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Potatoes Need to Grow

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when a too active, sleep deprived mind crosses path with a life full of kids. 
> 
> Thanks to the ever lovely and talented [Jo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktofade=) for being a great beta.

Derek is standing in the kitchen staring blearily at the countdown on the microwave while listening to the sounds of babbling in the next room. His nine month old daughter seems to be in deep conversation with one of her toys once again. He shakes his head smiling softly. If she's already this talkative at her age, she'll talk their ears off when she really has something to say, and will probably be worse than Stiles in a few years.

 

The microwave beeps and he opens it as soon as it does. There’s the unmistakable noise of Stiles rummaging frantically through papers in the living room,undoubtedly leaving a mess in his wake that would put a tornado to shame.

 

Derek sighs. It's always the same. No matter how many times it happens, Stiles inevitably fails to put his important papers somewhere he'll be able to remember easily the next morning, only for him to realize fifteen minutes before he has to leave for work that he can't find them anymore. And that's generally right before ―

 

"Derek!"

 

And there it is. Right before Stiles calls Derek to the rescue. Every. Single. Time.

 

Derek finishes preparing Lyna's formula then heads to the living room while shaking the bottle. He goes to Lyna's playpen eyeing the mess in the room. Stiles has apparently already made his way through the stack of papers on the coffee table, and in the closet. He's currently taking out every single thing he has in his backpack, not even looking when Derek enters the room.

 

"Yes, Stiles?"

 

Lyna starts making happy noises and flailing around when she sees him approaching with her bottle in his hand. She throws her little arms around as if it can make her bottle come faster. She looks so much like Stiles in these moments, her mind always active just like her little body. She'll probably bring hell down the house once she learns to walk if the stories the sheriff has told Derek about Stiles as a baby are anything to go by.

 

She falls back on the cushions laid out behind her, her arms still trying to grab empty air. Derek chuckles and bends over her playpen to hand her her bottle, waiting for her to have a good grasp on it before letting go when Stiles asks him,

 

“Have you seen the report I brought home the other day ? You know, the one I've worked on this weekend? I have to hand it back to my dad this morning, or he'll have my head this time.”

 

Derek looks at Lyna starting to suck eagerly on her bottle and passes his hand over her head and down her neck, smiling softly. He stands up straight again and when he looks back at Stiles, Stiles is looking at them with a fond look on his face. Derek loves that look. He loves when Stiles looks at him and their daughter that way. Like they're the best things that could have ever happened to him and like nothing is more precious than them in the world. Derek knows it perfectly; it's the exact same way that he looks at Stiles and Lyna all the time.

 

Derek is brought back to reality when Stiles directs an amused,“So?” at him.

 

“I told you to put it on the coffee table before going to bed yesterday night, next to your other stuff to make sure you wouldn't lose it for once.” Stiles looks affronted for a moment, but regains his composure before answering.

 

"I did! But it's not there anymore." Derek crosses his arms over his chest and lifts a skeptical eyebrow.

 

“Stiles, if you had put it where I'd told you, you would have found it there.”

 

Stiles makes a frustrated sound, spinning on his heels to go look through the papers on the desk in the corner of the room.

 

“I swear to you that I left it there. I clearly remember putting it on the coffee table right next to my backpack. I don't know! Maybe there's something in the house, like a spirit or... a familiar djinn or, I don't know, something!”

 

Derek rolls his eyes, kneeling next to the coffee table. Stiles is ridiculous; he always manages to find the worst excuses in every situation. Derek starts to rifle among the papers on the table. Maybe Stiles just missed it. His mother always said two pairs of eyes were better than one.

 

"Yes, or the neighbor’s cat came in the middle of the night and decided that your report would make a fine ball to play with, or a tasty snack... Stop trying to blame the supernatural world when it’s just your lack of organization skills."

 

"But I'm serious, Derek. You went to bed last night telling me to put the file on the table, and that's what I did! I know I was in a hurry to come after your butt, but I swear I put it there before following you upstairs," Stiles says wriggling his eyebrows at him, in what is probably supposed to be an enticing manner, but only looks ridiculous. Derek shakes his head smiling.

 

"Leave my butt out of this mess," he says in a reproving tone pointing an accusing finger in Stiles’ direction.

 

Stiles’ expression becomes dreamy, losing focus for a moment,and even before the smirk appears on Stiles' face, Derek knows what he's about to say.

 

"Oh, there was a mess alright..."

 

Derek lets his head fall forward, his chin bumping on his chest. He's already smiling when he looks back up again shaking his head.

 

“You're ridiculous.”

 

"But don't you see ? It's all your fault. Well, okay. Not completely your fault. Your butt is the part of you to blame here. It’s your butt’s fault I rushed things last night.”

 

Derek opens his mouth to retort, but Stiles flails his arms around as if he can physically stop him from saying anything more, though it effectively shuts Derek up.

 

"No! Okay, I was in a rush to join you, but I clearly remember putting my report on top of the pile of papers on the coffee table. I even put my glasses case on it to make sure it wouldn't fly off. Then I locked the door, I tuned the lights off, and I went upstairs. When I came to grab it ten minutes ago, my glasses case was on the floor and my file was missing!"

 

Stiles is pulling at his hair by the end of his explanation, and Derek passes his palm over his own face. Sometimes, he's really grateful to be a werewolf, or he’d probably start to feel the pounding of a headache right then.

 

He makes a motion with his hand for Stiles to come closer and wraps his arms around his waist, Stiles' arms finding their way around his neck. Stiles sighs heavily resting his forehead on the curve of Derek’s shoulder.

 

"Stiles, it's not as though we have a dog that could have eaten your report in the middle of the night," Derek says softly to his husband, stroking his back and trying to soothe the already tense muscles.

 

Stiles lets out an almost inaudible, “I know,” at the same time that Lyna lets out a big resounding fart. Stiles starts to laugh, his head still on Derek's shoulder, making Derek's body shake with it.

 

"Man, your daughter makes such resounding arguments," Stiles says, lifting his head to look at Derek.

 

"She's more your daughter in that matter than she is mine," Derek answers, pecking Stiles on the corner of his mouth and smirking at the affronted expression on his face. He then lets his arms fall from around Stiles’ waist and turns to change Lyna.

 

"Can't you tell your dad that you couldn't find it and will bring it to him tomorrow instead? It's not like it’s the first time."

 

"But you know how much he doesn't like to let anything pass with me.He doesn't want anyone to think he favors me more than any of the other officers because I'm his son. I really need it this morning."

 

Derek goes over to the playpen to take Lyna in his arms. She's lying on her side, her bottle kicked at her feet. She's nibbling on her tiny clenched fist. Derek reaches for her and she lets her fist fall out of her mouth. There's something sticking on her lower lip.

 

"What are you eating, Baby Doll?"

 

Derek swipes his thumb on her lip, and squints down to see what it is.He freezes. It's a wet, chewed tiny piece of paper with the letters _ion_ still readable in Stiles' handwriting. His eyes widen and he laughs nervously. He looks at his daughter who's babbling happily at nothing.

 

Now that he pays attention to it, he sees three more bits of paper scattered around the playpen, some looking more chewed and wetter than others.

 

"Huh... Stiles. I think I found your report."

 

“Oh, thank God." He makes his way to Derek still talking. “I was really worried for a sec―”

 

He halts next to Derek, frozen on the spot, and mouth open in shock as he stares at the tiny bit of paper in Derek's hand.

 

"Derek, please tell me your daughter didn't eat my project."

 

"Your daughter didn't eat my project."

 

Stiles makes an affronted noise and slaps Derek on the side of his head. He looks so shocked, as though he can't believe something like that like would happen, that Derek can’t help but laugh.

 

"Derek!" Stiles exclaims. He's gaping, looks absolutely offended by Derek's reaction and Derek just laughs harder.

 

"It's not funny!" He crosses his arms over his chest looking like a petulant kid. "Derek, stop laughing!"

 

Derek tries to sober up because Stiles looks really frustrated by all of it, but he can’t help it; the situation is just hilarious. He manages a choked, "Sorry," at the same time that Lyna laughs too, deciding to join in on the fun, and launching Derek into another fit of laughter.

 

Stiles shakes his head, sighing dramatically. He bends over the playpen, still shaking his head, but smiling fondly at their daughter, taking her into his arms.

 

"Only you, Sweet Potato, only you."

 

He turns to Derek, a soft smile on his face.

 

Derek’s still catching his breath, wiping at the wetness from the tears of mirth on his cheeks. Stiles presses closer, Lyna lying on his arm against his chest. He reaches with his free hand to swipe his thumb gently under Derek's other eye. He has a soft smile playing on his lips, looking at Derek like he's the biggest idiot on the planet, but wouldn't change him for anything.

 

"I take it from your reaction that there's no need to worry that our daughter just ate paper?"

 

Derek is still grinning widely when he answers. “That's another advantage werewolves have, don't worry. We can eat awful things and not even get a stomach ache after. I ate so much worse than paper as a kid, you have no idea.”

 

"That explains so much actually."

 

Derek shoves his shoulder a little, smiling. "Idiot"

 

Stiles is beaming at him and Derek can't help but wipe the expression from his face by kissing him breathless. The kiss is a sweet press of lips against lips at first that Derek turns into a deeper one by coaxing Stiles’ mouth open with a swipe of his tongue. His hand cradles Stiles’ jaw and he feels Stiles burying his free hand into his hair making Derek moan breathlessly. The kiss becomes hungrier, but is cut short when Lyna lets out a loud burp and paints the front of Stiles’ uniform with some regurgitated formula. Stiles makes an incoherent noise, looking at their daughter as Derek chuckles.

 

"Such resounding arguments..." he says, smirking at Stiles who gapes at him. He takes his daughter from Stiles' arms, kissing him softly one last time, before deciding that he’ll have to head to the bathroom to give Lyna a quick bath.

 

When he looks back before going upstairs, Stiles still hasn't moved an inch from his spot in the living room and is staring at him with narrowed eyes and a slack jaw. Derek smirks and begins to climb the stairs.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This actually happened to me once. My daughter ate one of my almost finished drawing. There was a huge piece of the paper missing right in the middle and it was all crumpled. It was very frustrating for me but she was all happy about it. 
> 
> More little pieces of their domestic life with their kids making their life a new kind of Hell will come. :) 
> 
> You can also find me on [Tumblr](http://autheane.tumblr.com/)


End file.
